Walks

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I always love the summer days when we forego solid gym work for a walk in the woods. It feels like a mini holiday. A small breakaway. Fingers tracing the rustling green, glad hearts.

There were so many bunnies. Ears twitching, noses in the air, mouths full of moist green grass. Such sweet, gentle creatures. I wanted to hold one, or two, but they didn’t seem too wild about the idea, disappearing into the tall grass lickety-split.

And then, the butterflies, and the flowers….

If only I could make a bouquet of these days, I would place them in every room, a burst of light and warmth for the coming cold winter days and nights.

 

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In passing

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this little being,
curl and filigree,
ignoring the sacrilege
of my loud clumsy step,
the alien thrust of my body
in the midst of all that is old,
so very old,
said, with the sweetest of whispers,
hail stranger,
whither thou goest…
to which I could but reply,
in circles, dear friend, in circles.

Re-connect.

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After a long time, paint on my fingers.
I have always been a reader, never without the essence of another story running in parallel with my own. Except for a few months in the immediate past where I just couldn’t. I don’t know why. And I have never felt so disconnected with my self. So adrift and empty. But thankfully, this phase has passed and I have been reading voraciously again. Shirley by Charlotte Bronte, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Journal of a solitude by May Sarton, My cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier, just to name a few. It feels insanely good. So much so that I have devoted every spare moment to reading thus neglecting my painting. But that, too, has passed and I could paint again yesterday. Yippee!! So, here’s to getting back into the groove! To painting, reading, creating, to immersing oneself in the little things.

Here’s to feeling connected!

RE-Worked.

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Re-worked an older one. It needed a bit of a pick me up. A bit of a freshening, airing, a brightness.
*The green in the photo is slightly greener than on the canvas.
Acrylics on Canvas
20″ x 16″
Available

Push and Pull

What is this, this
push and pull,
this need to shut everything down,
to walk away, to sit
under a tree,
until I become long as
a shadow
and creepers think
nothing of me
but a place to lay down roots.
And then, there is
that tremulous flower opening
it’s lips, thirsty for life
and hungry for a bee,
and I want to rush back
to my paper and holding
a pen,
share it, share all this,
this joy called life.

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New piece.

Started a new piece yesterday. There is always that thrill and slight trepidation of starting a new painting. That initial burst of energy as one puts colours down on the canvas in a willy nilly fashion, looking, out of the corner of the eye, for something to show up, to peak one’s interest. That AHA moment!

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And it did. The shape of his head. But it is not finished yet. The painting is asking for more and I do not know yet what that something is. So, I will be in my little room that I call my studio and work on solving this little mystery. Hope it leads me somewhere good.

 

Oils!

Sometimes, you just gotta jump in!! I bought some oil paints!

Just a few basic colours to play with.

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I have always been drawn to oil paintings. The vibrancy of colour, the depth. They seem so much more richer and complex. But I have always been intimated by them, too. I lack the discipline required to work with them. Besides, the way I paint is not very conducive to working with oil paints because oil paints stay wet longer than acrylics which does not work for my layer and texture building process (if I can call the way I paint a process). I have no doubt it will eventually all turn into brown mush. But then, you know, you never know till you try…so I thought, what the hey, YOLO!, and jumped in with both feet!

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And guess what, I really, really enjoyed it! It’s such a different world! So meditative and deliberate and intense! I loved the slow movement of thought and action. The balance between being deliberate and organic.

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Time to get more colours, me thinks!

 

Wholeness.

How beautiful the earth is today. How gentle. It’s a gift, a mother’s love. The blooming honeysuckle, the gentlest of breeze and soft soft sunlight. There is a peaceful, pervading stillness, a self contained quiet that is persuasive, leading me into absolute silence and being. No thoughts, no wishes, no dreams. Just pure being and unfolding under this warmth. It makes me want to come back to myself, to gather all those frayed, tattered bits and pieces that constitute my person and, just once, hold them tight to my chest with all the strength in my body, and then, to let them go into this light, so they can fall, softly, gently into place, making me whole once again.

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Harmony.

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Of soul, of spirit.

With nature, with self.

It’s a long and arduous walk uphill and I am still at the base, looking up, the bright sun in my eyes. But if knowledge and awareness are half the battle, then I am half way up. I hope to walk on, consciously shedding the unwanted weight of self-doubt, of superfluous thoughts and needs, of judgements and self-righteousness, to empty, empty, empty all that makes me blind to the beauty of this hill, the flowers growing there, and the cool shelter of trees. The running brook and it’s cold sweet water. The birds and the foxes. To emerge from the fog, the dark cloud of self-absorption into clarity, into light.

It’s a long walk uphill. I will not be done in this lifetime, or possibly the next. But I have taken the first step, and maybe that is all I will achieve in this lifetime, but hey, it is a step forward, and that gives me hope.

Stars

Strewn along winding paths,

long past the hour of repose,

Look at what the stars have left behind

for us mortal souls…

the very essence of their likeness,

in white lace and yellow frill,

earthbound and fragile,

but somehow brighter still.

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